A Different Path
by in-prose
Summary: One shot for Tempus. A certain scene wouldn't leave me along.


_Title_: A Different Path  
><em>Spoilers<em>: Tempus  
><em>Summary<em>: One shot for the episode Tempus.  
><em>Author's Notes<em>: Watched Tempus. Stayed up too late. Written at 2:30am, so please excuse any mistakes. Comment = love.  
><em>Disclaimer<em>: These are not my characters, I just play with them. No copyright infringement intended.

A Different Path

The sound of the blade knocking against the wood rings in Helen's ears. Druitt pins against the cabinet and she has no way out. She gasps for a breath. Her life could end in this moment if Druitt made that choice. She is powerless. She is terrified.

With the smallest movement, she tries to pull away from his grasp. His grip on her arms tightens. Helen lets out of small cry, really more of a whimper.

"Look. Look in my face," he says with a chilling calmness, "Look at my face."

Helen struggles to raise her gaze to meet his. Her greatest love. She had once seen her future in those eyes; felt love from every touch. She can still feel his hands clinging to her. She looks up and does not see the monster she is expecting. Helen works with abnormals every day and rarely would she consider them monsters, but what her John had become is a monster. It is rage that drives him. An anger she is unable to ease. She is only inches from his face. His hair is disheveled, and he hasn't shaved in days. His clothes are stained.

But tonight, even as Druitt holds her captive, she sees a glimpse of the man she loves. His grip loosens ever so slightly. She can again see what lies ahead. She wants to hold onto that man. To share with him her secret. She wants to cry out, 'Stay with me! Fight.'

Helen sees his eyes begin to shine with tears. 'Hold on,' she thinks, 'Stay.'

Her John fades as quickly as he appeared. Druitt's face contorts into a snarl. He roars and the anger is back. He shoves her away and takes a step backwards. Before she can take another breath, he teleports. The red glows illuminate the dim study for an instant. And he is gone.

Helen brings a hand to her stomach. She doesn't even feel any sort of relief. Druitt will be back. Another shaky cry escapes her lips. The helplessness washes over her again. She covers her month with her hand as if to keep that sadness inside her.

Helen glances at the razor blade now embedded in the wall. She knows how vulnerable she is. Yet she is not alone. There is a second heart beat more important than herself. She is scared for that little life. If her John only knew.

She straightens and places both hands on her belly. She cannot keep playing this game with herself. She is in too much danger. She cannot fool herself any longer. She is alone. Her John is not coming back.

It is still unclear if his is responsible for the Ripper murders, but the fact that she could suspect him speaks volumes. He could return tomorrow, be his old self and she won't trust him. Helen knows she must face the reality that this fate is gone. Wife, mother, those are words that have slipped away from her.

Helen takes a few hesitant steps. She is trembling and her gate wavers. The lost threatens to over take her. She again brings her hand to cover her mouth. Her lips quiver beneath her own touch. She can still feel the pressure of Druitt's weight in her flesh. She attempts to keep her composure and it is a losing battle.

Briefly taking hold of the door frame to steady herself, she moves into the hallway. She walks with her usual grace, but it is merely a front. She inhales deeply, still trying to calm herself. It is not working.

She climbs the stairs slowly and retreats into her bedroom with its dark furniture and red painted walls. The fire is blazing in the great fireplace. She ignores the familiar faces looking back at her from the photographs on the mantel. She sinks into the chair in front of her little desk. A desk she used to sit at to write those naughty letters to her John.

Helen gives in. She buries her face in her palms and allows the sobs to rack her body. The tears are silent. 'When did everything change so dramatically?' she asks herself. She wishes she had someone who understood. The man she loved is lost and yet can still stand before her. She wishes her mother was still alive; these are the kind of problems mothers are best at answering. She wishes her father weren't still away. The Sanctuary is large and she is all alone. She wraps her arms around her belly.

Eventually, Helen manages to slow her gasps. The tears slow. She dries her cheeks. She rises from her seat. She retrieves a cloth from beside the washbasin. She dips it the cool water and covers her face. She waits until it no longer looks as if she has been crying.

She descends into the lab were she know James is waiting. She hears voices. "James? Is that you?" she calls across the lab. Her voice echoes across the tile floor.

"Darling, hello," he says. His stoic figure brings a sense of relief.

"There you are. Are you ready to work?" she said breathlessly. He doesn't notice the change in her voice.

"Yes, if you are."

"Absolutely. I've been rethinking your last theory and I've found a few holes I'm afraid."


End file.
